


Make me Up and Shoot me Down

by snoozingkitten



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Kink Meme, Make Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-29
Updated: 2012-06-29
Packaged: 2017-11-08 20:30:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/447233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoozingkitten/pseuds/snoozingkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lydia rigs a bet and makes Jackson into one of her dolls.</p><p>'He didn’t look like a girl at all, he looked like a boy in make-up, knifes’ edge cheekbones and come-and-fuck-me lips.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make me Up and Shoot me Down

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Teen Wolf Kink for the prompt: 'I just want Lydia/Jackson with Lydia putting make-up on Jackson. Because it seems like something she'd do, and those lips are far too pretty not to put lipstick on at least once.' Non-beta-ed, feel free to point out any errors.

Lydia couldn’t even bother to feel bad about it. She knew that Chemistry was Jackson’s weakest subject and that he wouldn’t hesitate to make a little bet with her with given his tendency to false bravado and the ridiculous assumption that he could impress Lydia. Still, a little motivation would help, _‘Think about it babe you win and it’s anything you want.’_ She was well aware of what that tight greedy look on his face meant if she lost. 

She also knew that there was no way he’d ever beat her. 

She’d broken her own record with the 98% really her parents should be proud she found some motivation beyond sheer **narcissism**. 

“I won.” She said simply, shrugging her shoulders and looking at the pale purple varnish on her nails. Jackson scowled at her lips pressed tight together in a thin line. “So tonight we do what _I_ want babe.” 

“Fine.” 

“My place, seven. Mom’s at Zumba classes.” She always needed to remind Jackson her mother’s Zumba schedule despite the fact that it never changed. It astounded her how stupid other people could be sometimes, even Jackson who was at least usually smarter than the average bear.

His pout was even more deadly when she’d painted it. She started with his lips because he knew what it tasted like already and it wasn’t like she’d not smeared his mouth with her gloss before when they traded quick kisses between classes. Ease him into things as it were. He’d baulked at first (she had to wonder what he’d thought she would make him do) but this was _her_ victory and to the victor go the spoils so she made him sit and obey. 

She kissed him afterwards smearing her work beyond repair, licking into his mouth and savouring the chemical waxy taste. Jackson scowled hard at her. 

“I’m going to need to re-do it now.” She said archly, licking his bottom lip as his big hands curved around her hips. 

“Then don’t mess it up.” He sighed against her mouth. 

“My dolls never used to talk so much.” 

With some tissue she scrubbed his lips clean and left him reclining comfortably on her bed as she grabbed the things she would need. “Come sit over here.” 

Jackson should have looked ridiculous sitting in front of her vanity which was delicate and white that had been a gift from her father who still thought all girls wanted to be princesses. Only he didn’t at all, he’d shed his letterman jacket leaving him only in one of those tight t-shirts he favoured because they showcased the long lean lines of his torso and the wiry strength of his arms. There was just that sense of urgency that bloomed in her stomach at the paradox of the image. 

“Really?” Jackson wiggled on the petite chair as she pulled out a sponge for the foundation. He was pale enough to match her skin tone she noted as she started with his forehead. He closed his eyes obediently enough, letting her cover his face. She couldn’t help but let her thumb trail over his cheek feeling the smooth of his skin under her fingers. 

“You have so many freckles.” She said as she smoothed them over. 

“I used to play soccer.” He said like the trophies weren’t displayed in the hall of his house. He used to play tennis too, Lydia just rolled her eyes where he couldn’t see. 

Once the foundation was even she put that back on the vanity and made Jackson tilt his head around so she could see it all. Even through the foundation she could see that he was a bit flushed. Lydia smiled wickedly as she pulled out the blusher brush and set about blending the pale pink rouge into his cheeks to balance out his face. She should have known that he would like this.

Jackson squirmed a little, eyes closed tight as she worked on blending. He had naturally sharp cheekbones, like the models in her fashion magazines. That was because ridges of his zygomatic bones were unusually high, Lydia thought absently as she blended the rouge in low to emphasize the angles of his face. She could have used it to round out his face, make him look softer and more feminine but Jackson wasn’t a girl and anyways Lydia may have found the ladies attractive but what she liked about Jackson wasn’t his girlish figure. 

She flicked his nose when Jackson opened his mouth to complain. 

“Take it like a man babe.” 

He glared at her; pretty blue eyes and long eyelashes. “I’ll show you taking it like a man.” He said with a smirk and she flicked him again. 

“I’m sure you will.” Lydia clicked her tongue. Jackson rolled his eyes, one hand touching her waist in a familiar exasperated gesture. 

She worked on his eyes next. He kept fidgeting, shifting his weight around, Lydia would pinch him or tug on his hair when it got too difficult to keep going. Still, he kept shifting, eyelids threatening to flutter as she blended in the edges of the eye-shadow, as if he couldn’t stop himself at all. 

Dark colours to make the pale blue of his eyes pop better. It looked amazing his eyes open and blinking slowly at her. 

“What the hell is that?” Jackson hissed, and god he was so insanely pretty. That weird sort of boy-pretty that happened on tv but never in real life (all the men who wore make-up just looked like sad emo-kids and nothing like the way Jackson was looking at her in horror eyes wide and cheeks flushed.) “ _No way_ , whatever that is no.” 

“Don’t be a baby.” Lydia laughed; brandishing the eyelash curler like it was a weapon. “This will give your eyelashes body.” 

“I didn’t think my eyelashes needed body.” Jackson grumbled but stilled under her touch when she pushed down on his shoulder letting just the ends of her nails add an edge to the implicit threat. 

“Well they do. Don’t move or this is going to really hurt.” Jackson barely even breathed as she curled his eyelashes. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so hot. Her stomach had been tight with arousal as soon as she’d begun the delicate work of lining his lash line and the way Jackson’s eyelids trembled under her fingers. Now Lydia was getting wet with it. 

“Just a little more okay?” She pet his hair and he gave a small nod, looking lopsided with only the left eyelashes curled. She wanted to run her fingers along that sharp line of his cheekbones but feared for messing up all the hard work she’d put into it so far. A little more and she could give him a treat for being so well behaved; Pavlov was a man who knew what he was on about.

Jackson made a soft sound, and Lydia was delighted to see that he was hard. It was difficult to tell if it was the make-up itself or something about her. Jackson did always come harder when she took control of the situation, as long as he wasn’t given a choice in it. _Men_. Lydia thought unkindly. 

“Hold on for me?” He dropped a chaste kiss on his lips. 

“Well hurry it up.” He frowned. 

“Can’t rush art.” She purred and Jackson even smiled a little lips twitching like he couldn’t help himself. Lydia liked it when she could make him smile as if he forgot for a moment that he was supposed to be a cocking irritating sort of boytoy.

Jackson made a ridiculous sort of pouting face at her when she held out the mascara wand. He didn’t have the faintest idea the number of different tortures the eyelashes went through in the name of fashion. Maybe he would even learn something. “Hold still or this goes in your eye.” 

Jackson’s lashes were long, but not quite dark enough make a dramatic scene. Once she coated them with mascara they curled beautifully. Lydia bit her lip and made sure to hold her hand steady careful to get the edges of his other eye. “Don’t blink, it’ll smudge.” She said absently, slightly taken aback by the image he made. 

“Let me grab the lipstick again. Don’t turn around I don’t want you seeing yourself yet.” Lydia wanted to see the look on his face when he saw himself all pretty. 

“You agreed. No photos.” Jackson said to the room at large as she dug around for a better lipstick. She settled on something pink but still bright. Jackson had a wide generous mouth and normally he knew what to do with it, tongue talented as the rest of him. Right now she wanted something specific (she wanted him to leave smears of lipstick up the inside of her thighs, wanted him to look at her through his pretty eyelashes as he ate her out), “pout.” She commanded and Jackson pursed his lips for a second before sticking them out the way he she did when she did her own lipstick in the mirror. 

She might have dragged it out a little, working at the very edges to make sure that it was completely perfect. Some shimmery gloss over top of it left Jackson’s mouth a vivid slash of colour across his pale face, that perfectly ripe low hanging fruit, so perfectly tempting. 

“You.” Lydia began, and stalled, she couldn’t think of a single way to end that. “You look different.” She said finally, pushing on Jackson’s shoulder so he could twist on the chair catching sight of his reflect. What she meant was ‘you look like artsy porn’. 

“Woah.” Jackson said softly, leaning over the back of the chair, completely transfixed by his reflection. 

There was a spark of fierce pride, after all it is a lot harder to mirror what you do to your own face everyday onto someone else, but mostly there was the pulse of lust. She wanted Jackson, wanted to cup his face in her hands and ride him hard. She wanted to use him like a pretty slut. Hadn’t ever wanted him quite like this before. 

Lydia pressed herself against his back, reaching down to rest her hand against the heat of his dick through his jeans. “You look amazing.” 

“I look like a girl.” Jackson said and he probably meant it to be belittling but missing the target by a mile. She could always tell when he was lying. He didn’t look like a girl at all, he looked like a boy in make-up, knifes’ edge cheekbones and come-and-fuck-me lips. “Happy now?” 

“Not nearly.” Lydia laughed, and she was so sad that he wouldn’t let her take photos, he’d pout so ridiculously and how she could tease Danny with them. It was okay, he was looking unhappy and perfect and she had a photographic memory. It was almost the same thing, besides she could still use this as ammunition in her never-ending war with him (Camp Vagina versus King of Cocks). She squeezed he mostly hard line of his dick, no idea why he was pretending to be unhappy about this when he was clearly was more than into it. 

“You’re twisted.” Jackson said and his lips twisted into a smirk. 

Lydia didn’t need to answer that. They were made for each other in that sense. Instead she flicked the button on his jeans and tugged the zipper down with a practiced hand. 

Jackson untwisted himself forcing Lydia to pull away. He was so careful taking off his shirt not to smudge any of her work that she rewarded him by bending over to flick her tongue against his nipple. Jackson grunted arching his back faintly to push into the contact, his nipples were quite sensitive and when she dug her nails into them Jackson would whine like he was almost dying from it. They were more sensitive than her own even, something that she used viciously to her advantage. 

“The bed.” Lydia said, “I want to see you.” 

Jackson shucked his pants and those clingy little briefs that hugged his perfect ass. Her mother hadn’t noticed that she had moved one of the various full length mirrors so that it showed the bed when you were lying on it. What was the point of being so beautiful and sleeping with an Adonis if you couldn’t take the time to admire it?

Jackson sprawled completely naked, flush spilling down his chest and face the fake-flawless that only came with the liberal application of foundation to smooth out all the human imperfections. Lydia pulled her panties down kicking them off and climbing up onto the bed with him. 

Jackson’s hands came to rest on her hips, helping hold her skirt up. The image they made in the mirror was stunning, her clothed and him naked, with her red hair spilling everywhere. Lydia should probably be embarrassed that she was soaked already. She wasn’t. Instead she purred, fingering the lines of his abdomen, lean muscle jumping at the touch. His pupils were huge and black as he stared up at her, leaving just a ring of bright blue. He licked softly at his bottom lip as he stared up at her, and it probably tasted of wax. Lydia wanted to know what it would feel like to lick that texture off someone else’s lips. 

“You’re going to make a mess.” Jackson said as she leaned down to hover over him, just letting her breasts rest on his chest, the dark silky material of her top pooling against his pale skin. 

“That’s the point.” 

She kissed him and his lips were sticky and slick under her mouth. Keenly aware of the way his mouth gave under hers letting her control the kiss completely. When she rolled her hips his cock slid across the inside of her thigh just a little tease for the both of them. Jackson groaned against her mouth, shifting his hips up they were rubbing all slick and hot together. 

Her own mouth had to be a smeared mess, but Jackson looked worse, his mouth hanging open and used. Lydia never wished more she had a cock because there was just something so appealing about the thought of someone feeding her Jackson dick. He was every bit as gorgeous as when he was standing in the big lights, flushed, sweaty and grass stained from owning the pitch at a Lacrosse match. Lydia made it a point to only have the best stuff. 

“Lydia.” Jackson groaned one hand sliding up her shirt, clever fingers sliding under her bra to brush against one breast. 

Biting her lip she reached down and pushed two fingers into herself finding that she was wet and more than ready. Jackson let out a shaky breath that matched her own as she slide down onto him. The pressure was amazing, feeling full and perfect as she sat on the cradle of his hips straddling him. She used her wet fingers to smear the smudged lipstick around his bottom lip and Jackson’s hips jerked helplessly against her weight. 

When she leaned over to kiss him again her hair fell around them like being locked in a ginger cocoon, tasting the faintest trace of herself. He rocked them together, his dick shifting inside her just enough to send a thrill of friction up her spine. She wanted to reach out and smudge his eye-shadow with her thumb, or better yet rid his face until it was a smeared mess of pigment and her juices. 

Lydia bit Jackson’s lips and he retaliated by digging his fingers into her butt, pulling her down against him as he rocked up to meet her. She was close already, stomach tight and ready just thinking about riding his face, from teasing his eyes with her brushes. It was wild and desperate the way it sometimes got when they were parked somewhere and knew that someone could come along at _any moment_ except in her own room. All it took was her fingers reaching down to rub hard against her clit and she was moaning, tossing her head back to ride him hard and draw it out longer and longer. It felt like fracturing into a million pieces mouth working soundlessly against the pleasure that threatened to drown her. 

“Oh god.” Jackson whined, and he was bucking up into her looking absolutely wild. He came with a small sound, eyes closed and grinding up against her causing her toes to curl and thighs to try and twitch closed. 

They lay together just breathing. 

Lydia reached out to smear the lipstick around his mouth and Jackson caught her fingers, sucking the tip of one into his mouth absently as he fluttered his pretty eyes at her. Lydia grinned wickedly, she could probably still get him to eat his come out of her, it would make such a filthy mess. It would be perfect.


End file.
